


What Happens in the Kitchen...

by highnyoom



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Bromance, Crack, Fighting, Fooooood fiiiiight!!!!!!, Im tired, M/M, Mayonnaise, McHanzo - Freeform, Pickles - Freeform, cursing, enjoy lmao, i just want to get these writing ideas out of my mind and onto paper/screen, sue me, this is weird i know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-12-26 10:45:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12057360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/highnyoom/pseuds/highnyoom
Summary: Hanzo and McCree get into a petty fight over nothing, goofiness ensues, along with general overcompensation.





	What Happens in the Kitchen...

McCree and Hanzo hadn’t spoken to one another as of the past month, except to talk of Overwatch business. Nobody knew why, nobody dared ask, because as well as the two tried to hide it, the angry tension between them was one giant elephant in the room. It was okay though, because they got things done, and they all had a good time together despite it all, and that is all that mattered, for a while, everything was fine. McCree did his own shit, and Hanzo checked in on him from time to time to see how his work was going, and that was it. Eventually though, things started to get bad.

 

Lucio, McCree, and Hana were playing video games and recording it to look like they were actually doing something important, while Jack and Angela edited some reports due to Winston on Friday. Hanzo poked his head into the rec room to check on everyone. “Hey guys, just letting you know, it’s Thursday, and there has not been a video report yet. Winston wants to know why.” He had stepped fully into the room now, blocking the door,  and looking stern. 

 

McCree sighed and glared at Hanzo. “Yeah, we’re gettin’ to it, we just  _ haven’t gotten to it yet. _ ” He instantly looked back to the monitor they were playing Minecraft on in an attempt to blatantly ignore Hanzo and make him go away. He didn’t want to deal with Hanzo, he almost always turned things in on time, so the one tiny thing he didn’t do, he got fuckin’ hounded for? He wasn’t gonna deal with it. The video file had somehow gotten corrupted and they weren’t able to upload it, but he wasn’t gonna tell him that, no way. Hanzo was just gonna have to accept that he didn’t have it.

 

“Uh, McCree, we should just tell him, it’s no big deal.” Lucio piped up. “We can fix it and send it in on another day,” he turned to Hanzo, “Look man, the file got corrupted, and-”

 

McCree was having none of it, he dropped his controller and stormed from the room, pushing past Hanzo and out into the hallway, the others looking on with raised eyebrows.

 

“Well that was dramatic.” Hana said, “Wonder what has him so wound up today.” She leaned back, chewing on the inside of her cheek thoughtfully. 

 

Hanzo looked at everyone in the office, exasperated, but mostly Hana, since they had rooms next to each other. “What was that about, Hana?” 

 

Hana looked at Hanzo as if the man had gone mental. “How the hell should I know, you guys have been fighting for weeks, it’s not my fault he’s mad at you!” Hana looked over at Lucio who was definitely signalling a ‘Do-not-say-that-Hana-you-fucking-dunce’ look. Angela only laughed at the confused look on Hana’s face, while Hanzo just threw his hands up and left. “What, I’m not a total dummy, I didn’t tell him  _ why _ McCree’s mad at ‘im.” 

 

\-------------------------------------------

 

McCree was in the kitchen, rifling through the refrigerator. He had definitely grabbed Hanzo’s favorite fancy-pants Japanese bread(apparently it’s lighter, but it just looks like Wonderbread without crust), mayonnaise, and all your typical sandwich stuff: mustard, deli meat and some Provolone cheese, and was about to use Hanzo’s stupid pickles, when he heard heavy, angry footsteps coming toward the kitchen. He held up a mayonnaise-covered butter knife when he turned around to see Hanzo. “Stop, I’m armed, and I’m not afraid to use this horrible, terrible weapon.”

 

Hanzo growled. He was not in the mood for childish nonsense. “McCree, I--” He noticed what the gunslinger was doing. “Is that my bread?” McCree quickly turned around to try and finish the sandwich before Hanzo could take it, but Hanzo had other plans in mind. He grabbed the mayonnaise away from McCree, sliding it to the other side of the counter, then attempted to wrestle the butter knife away from him, only to be stopped and swatted in the face with a piece of bread. They kept going like that, fighting over the random condiments McCree had gotten out, until McCree grabbed the mustard, uncapped the lid, and with one hand on McCree’s shoulder in an attempt to get away from the inevitable onslaught, Hanzo watched, as if in slow motion, the disgusting watery, liquid mustard spray onto his face before the container belched the thicker stuff out all over his shirt and neck. 

 

McCree’s jaw dropped and he laughed as if he couldn’t believe he just did that, and that was it for Hanzo, no more playing nice. He quickly slipped away from McCree and grabbed the closed jar of mayonnaise off the counter, opened it, and grabbed the back of the other man’s shirt. Before he could react, he forcefully dumped the contents onto his back, and was pleased when McCree  yelped out a loud, “Motherfucker!” and started jumping around. He tore his shirt off, desperately, attempting to wipe it all off of his back with the already mayonnaise-ey shirt. Hanzo began laughing his ass off. A rare sight that McCree might have noticed if he hadn’t already been preoccupied with other plans.  

 

“Y-your face!” Hanzo was laughing so hard that he could not breathe, so McCree took the opportunity to grab the cold pickle jar and tackle Hanzo, holding it above his head, as the man tried his hardest to keep McCree’s pickle arm at least three feet away from himself. “No! Get that away from me!” 

 

“Nuh-uh, Hanzo, you asked for it.” McCree held the most serious expression on his face that he could muster while holding down Hanzo, who was writhing like a cat and trying to bite him. “Pickles in your pants, Hanzo, pickles in your pants.” Hanzo realized what was about to happen, and rolled over on all fours to try and run away, but that was a mistake. McCree grabbed the waistband of his pants, and pulled, giving him just enough room to dump pickle juice and as many pickles as he could get in Hanzo’s pants, before the man jumped up and pulled them off, tackling McCree to the floor again, causing him to drop the jar, spilling pickles everywhere.

 

They grappled for a few minutes, wrestling on the slimy, mayonnaise and pickle covered floor, trying not to hurt each other badly, but enough to piss the other off. “Y’know,” McCree grabbed his Mayonnaise shirt, and rubbed it at Hanzo’s face, trying to force him to relent, “Maybe, this wouldn’t’a happened to begin with--” Hanzo forced his  face into the floor, rubbing it in the floor mayonnaise, while McCree continued to mumble the rest of his sentence, “Mmf eugh rrnt so obsssd wf wrrgk.” Hanzo let his head up.

 

“What are you saying? You know I can easily beat you in hand-to-hand combat, right?” McCree spit mayonnaise and various floor fluids from his mouth, before catching the archer off guard and gaining the advantage so that he could get a moment to talk. 

 

“I said, maybe this wouldn’t’a happened to begin with if you weren’t so obsessed with work, Hanzo! But... Now that I hear myself say that, it’s kind of stupid.” He mused, stopping the fighting with Hanzo for a moment to look reproachful. 

 

“Yes, what is that saying? No shit, Sherlock? Now get off of me, this is ridiculous.”

 

McCree was now straddling Hanzo, and was surprised that the other man was actually allowing him to. “Yeah, but we gotta talk, Hanzo, I’m pretty mad at ya.”

 

“Okay, McCree, what the hell are you mad about, and, when we’re done  _ discussing _ this,” he waved his arms outwardly, “will you stop acting like a giant cowboy child and finish your assignment?”

 

McCree looked up at the ceiling in thought for a moment. “Hmm, I don’t seem to get much outta that deal, but fine. You used my training gun for practice and didn’t even ask me, and now it’s been scratched up, and you blew it off as if it was already like that. I’d like to take this opportunity to add that you only ever ask me about the job, and never how I’m doing, Hanzo. I’m wounded.” 

 

Hanzo was dumbfounded. “ _ That’s _ what you’re upset about? Your  _ training gun _ ? _ Seriously, McCree! _ You didn’t talk to me for a month!”

 

“Yeah well, my feelins were hurt asshole, you coulda just apologized for doin’ it,  but you didn’t, and you tried to push it off on me for being mad for  _ no reason _ .” McCree straightened his back slightly, causing Hanzo to squirm under his weight. He was being dramatic on purpose, but he was upset at him for a while simply on the principle that he wouldn’t apologize, but then Hanzo was mad at him in turn, which was stupid. 

 

Hanzo just let his head drop onto the floor. This was stupid, McCree was yanking his chain, he was straddling him, he was warm, Hanzo had no pants, and they were covered in pickle juice and Mayonnaise. This was a ridiculous situation. “McCree, if you don’t get off of me right now, I’m going to hurt you, and you’re going to regret it.”

 

McCree grumbled and crawled off of Hanzo, not really getting the apology he wanted, but he figured it was good enough. He tried to wipe mayonnaise off of his stomach, but the shit was everywhere, so he gave up pretty quickly. He turned around to face Hanzo, and was shocked slightly by the short distance between them. He didn’t move though, and neither did the other man.  “I- uh-”

 

“Hey, McCree are you in her-” Angela stopped in her tracks, taking in the sight before her. McCree and Hanzo were blotted with random white stuff, Hanzo had no pants on, McCree had no shirt, and there was a jar of pickles turned over on the floor, surrounded by a lot of yellow stuff that was probably pickle juice, but she didn’t even stay long enough to think about it. “I- I’ve got a thing... Yeah.” Angela scurried back upstairs to definitely not speak of what she’d seen and could not unsee. 

 

McCree and Hanzo were frozen in embarrassment. “I’m going to take a shower. Good-fucking-bye McCree. I’m not dealing with this right now, someone else will find the mess and clean it.” He began walking away from the kitchen.

 

“Yeah, whatever asshole.” McCree shook his head. He had the sudden urge to do as many annoying things to Hanzo as possible. What had he gotten himself into?


End file.
